


One Word Prompts

by Bunnywith



Category: A Matter of Life and Death (Webcomic)
Genre: Coffee Shops, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Multiple Pairings, Rainy Days, Stealing clothing, abandoned cake batter, borrowing clothing, boyfriend shirt, flirting while baking, friends doing friend things, neck biting, non canon lore, romantic and nonromantic, sleepy mornings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 22:23:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15180647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywith/pseuds/Bunnywith
Summary: Drabbles/Long drabbles based on one word prompts. Tags will be updated as drabbles are added, pairings in chapter titles.





	1. Love (Love & Anguish, one-sided)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anguish agonizes over whether or not to to tell Love his feelings.

Love is always in her gardens at this time, and today is no different. She's humming to herself, a team of Cupids behind her, carrying her gardening necessities in woven baskets. There's a peony bush that has been needing her attention for a few days now and she hasn't had a moment of free time until now.

Near the brick entrance of the gardens, Anguish lurks. His back is pressed to the wall, heart pounding, sweat crawling down his face. In one hand he clutches a card he made, cut into the shape of a heart, _like the adorable hearts in her eyes_ , he thinks to himself. Inside the card he's written I LIKE YOU, covered it with glitter, and listed reasons why he likes her below his declaration, in a bulleted list: 

  * Your eyes are pretty
  * You are pretty
  * You are very cute and short
  * You dress very nice
  * You smell like flowers



He'd spent at least three hours working on the card and the accompanying list of reasons why she was so loveable and why she made his heart flutter. He'd spent a further two hours trying to pump himself up to go deliver it to her. He's been at the entrance to her gardens for the past hour, trying to talk himself into actually approaching her, but now that he's here he's absolutely terrified and he can only think of all the ways she might tell him she hates the card, including:

  1. Laughing in his face.
  2. Ripping it in half in front of him.
  3. Dropping it on the ground and stepping on it.
  4. Laughing in his face, ripping it in half in front of him, and dropping it on the ground and stepping on it.



Now that he was looking at the card again, he wondered if maybe he should have made the bullets heart shaped? Was that overkill? Was the card not enough on its own? Did it need more glitter? He should’ve added more glitter!!

“Gloves!” Love barks her orders like a surgeon and a Cupid hands her a pair of gardening gloves. Anguish peers around the brick archway, spotting her pulling on pink gardening gloves, wiggling her fingers to get her hands in all the way. Why is she so cute no matter what she's doing? Every moment he looks at her he's more drawn to her. He wishes he had the courage to confess his feelings to her so he can just sit in the garden and watch her work. Maybe she would let him take the place of the Cupid holding an umbrella over her and he could just follow her around, keep her shaded. 

“Shears!” She's given the shears and she begins tending to her flowers, clipping dead leaves off her peonies and putting them aside in a small bag to keep the mess together.

Maybe now? When she’s in the garden? Would another time be better to give her the card? But when would be better? After the bimonthly meetings? Maybe he could ask her to meet him somewhere? But then he’d need to approach her anyway! Why was this so hard?? All he wanted to do was tell her he liked her! He didn’t even expect anything in return, it would be nice if she reciprocated, but he just wanted to be around her!

_Do it do it do it do it you can do it do it do it just walk up to her and hand it to her do it do it…_

He doesn’t know when his feet started moving, but he’s past the brick archway when he realizes he’s walking over to her. He feels sick and his hands are shaking and all she’s doing is kneeling on a towel while she prunes the peonies but she’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen in Ithis or on Earth and he knows if he wants to be near her, he has to tell her. Or at the very least he has to say hi!

Love hears footsteps and turns, expecting Death, so she’s surprised to see Anguish. He freezes where he is, not saying a word, just trembling.

“Oh, hello, Anguish! I wasn’t expecting you! Oh, I’m covered in dirt!” She isn’t, not that he can see, and even if she was, he wouldn’t care. Love removes her gloves and hands them to a Cupid, and steps up to Anguish, looking up at him, _she’s so small, she’s so small,_ her big eyes smiling as she waits for him to speak.

“I…” He says. Good start. One word. She just smiles brighter, keeps waiting. He’s certain she’s going to lose patience. He needs to speak.

“H-Hi!” He squeaks, mortified by how timid he sounds. To his surprise, she looks delighted.

“Hi! Oh, how exciting, you’ve never spoken to me before! What did you need?” She waits for his next response, aware that he’s quaking in his shoes. There’s no need to be so frightened, she isn’t going to do anything to him. But she knows telling him that won’t help. It’s just him and how he’s made.

Her gaze is drawn to the bright pink card in his hand, the glitter on it sparkling in the sun.

“Is that for me?” She asks. He hides it a little. He hopes she grabs it herself. No, that would be cowardly, he needs to at least give it to her himself! He knows he’s a coward, but he can’t allow himself to be that cowardly!

“Y… Yes!” His voice is too loud this time, rather than almost too soft to hear. He holds his arm out to her, and the card is backward. Love giggles as she takes it and opens it up, reading it. She gasps softly, looking surprised.

“Oh! Really? You like me?” She turns the card all around, admiring his work. 

He cannot even begin to form words and sounds right now. He nods, once, his chin nearly colliding with his sternum.

Love smiles softly, reading over the card again. She’s terribly flattered. She barely knows him so she doesn’t really have any feelings for him, but she definitely likes him as a friend. Either way, she’s delighted he overcame his fears to confess to her. Her heart feels light and fluttery, feeling the excitement and surprise of being confessed to. She now knows what the humans feel when she blesses someone with the courage to confess their love.

“Thank you so much for the card, it's lovely! Would you like to help me with the flowers?”

His heart soars. He nods, over and over, eager to kneel with her and clip dead leaves. The Cupids return her gloves and give him a pair. Love giggles when he tries to pull them on and finds they’re too small. They're her gloves after all, and her hands are so small. He tries Death’s gloves, but they’re too narrow. He doesn’t care though, he’ll help her with or without gloves.

He kneels beside her with his borrowed shears, overwhelmed by how happy he is as she shows him which leaves to clip and where to put them once it’s cut.

The sun is warm on his back and he can smell the dirt and freshly-cut leaves, and the flower scent of Love’s hair. She’s beside him and giggling as she pulls a bug off a leaf and shows him and for once there is no anxiety, there is no fear or paranoia in his thoughts. For once, he feels calm. He feels happy.


	2. Sugar (Life/Death)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life and Death start baking a cake, then get utterly distracted.

“I made cupcakes with Love once. I still like to bake with her but any recipes she picks out have to be screened. She has a sweet tooth the likes of which I’ve never seen or even imagined. The first time we baked together, the recipe called for 1 ½ cups of sugar, and she wanted to double it.” Death still recalls his first bite of those pure sugar cupcakes, eyes vacant and unseeing as his teeth remember the sting, his stomach wrenching, reminding him of the gastrointestinal discomfort he'd suffered in case he gets any wild ideas about eating Love’s cupcakes again. _Never again. Never again._

He shudders and measures out sugar for the cake he and Life are baking, one bowl with sugar for the cake, the rest of the sugar in a pot to make blueberry jam for between the layers.

“They didn't caramelize? Or burn? Gotta say I'm shocked, with that much sugar…” Life is picking through a bowl of blueberries, pulling off stems when he finds them, and sorting the visually perfect ones into another bowl. The visually not so perfect blueberries are sorted into his mouth. He gathers a few and turns to Death, an extremely serious look on his face. 

“Open up.” He orders.

Death’s cheekbones flush pink as he very obediently opens his mouth, allowing Life to put the blueberries past his lips. Death tries to close his mouth fast enough to keep Life’s fingers there, to feel the shape of them as they pass by his lips, but Life has clearly anticipated this longing of Death's and moves swiftly away. Death only manages to catch the tips of his fingers, his head and body rolling forward to follow and chase them. The motion makes Life grin wickedly, makes Death mortified by his own eagerness and need for every and any touch from Life, a dark look crossing his face as he realizes how needy he seems.

“What a sour face, I didn't think the blueberries were that bad.” Life feigns stupidity at the reason for Death’s response, and overdramatically shrugs as though he's the bigger person for not judging Death’s questionable taste buds. 

Death wrinkles his nose in irritation, mostly just angry that he was denied the feel of Life's fingers in his mouth. He still wants it, wants anything Life will give him, a hand over his hand, Life’s head on his shoulder, any and all kisses and caresses. Life takes note of Death's sad, pouty face and licks the pad of his own first two fingers, and dips them into the sugar. Life then presses them to Death's lips, watching how he slowly parts them, welcomes Life into his mouth, savoring the taste of Life's sweet fingers, the warmth, and the shape of them, his eyes dreamily sliding shut. Now that Death has his treat, he doesn't want to enjoy it too quickly, he wants to savor it. He feels the weight of Life's fingertips on his bottom lip and licks it, tasting the flecks of sugar. He kisses where he just licked and feels Life pressing his fingers in. Death opens his mouth wider, obedient to Life's every whim. Life's fingers lightly scrape against Death's teeth and in the back of his thoughts he remembers they were baking a cake, but it's so hard to think about that now or care when Death is staring at him with hazy, needy, adoring eyes and his tongue is eagerly licking along Life's fingers as they slide deeper into his mouth.

Death’s legs are shaking, his hands eager to grasp Life's arm and hold it against his chest as he enjoys his fingers in his mouth. He closes his lips around them, sucking lightly as he meets Life's eyes, his tongue licking from the knuckle to the tip of his finger. Life is watching with wide eyes, heart beating wildly, echoing in his ears. He strokes his thumb along Death's cheek, watching him light up and preen with the attention. Life slides his fingers out, Death biting down lightly to keep them there, lick and kiss them like this is goodbye, before releasing them. Life looks absolutely shaken. It seems to him that it always happens this way, with Life setting out to tease Death and prod him, tempt him, but Death always catches him off-guard with how alluring he is. Even now, the hazy look in Death’s eyes and the flush spread over his face is calling to Life, begging him to touch and stroke Death’s face and feel him turn his face into the palm of his hand because he knows he will. 

“Life?” Death’s voice is soft, dazed, lips wet where Life's fingers slid over them, his expression pleased, glowing. Life leans in first and Death follows his lead as their lips meet, softly at first, both of them foggy and dazed from moments ago. 

Life presses his mouth to Death’s neck, kissing and sucking lightly as Death tilts his head to the side, his hair tickling Life’s nose. Life twirls one long tail of Death’s hair around his fingers as he sucks harder, suddenly bites down, makes Death gasp and hold him tighter. Death slides a hand to the back of Life’s head, feeling his fuzzy regrowth and noting he needs a trim, but he loses his train of thought when Life bites again, harder, Death crying out and tangling his fingers into Life’s hair.

Life pulls back to admire his work, pleased with the way his bite is purpling against Death’s white skin. He turns Death’s head and looks from different angles, as if appraising art. Death is panting, eyes unfocused as he trembles, enjoying the sweet pain on his neck. 

“You’re so beautiful like this.” Life murmurs, standing close to Death again. He slides his hand over Death’s face and exactly as he knew he would, Death turns his face into his palm, lips parted as his breathing slows back to normal, pressing kisses into Life’s palm as if to tell him how much he enjoyed that, how he'd like more. “You look wrecked.” All because of him. 

Death walks him back a step, presses him into the counter, hands under his thighs as he lifts him, seating Life on the countertop. Life opens his legs and Death slots himself between them, hands on Life's torso and sliding downward over his waist and hips to come to a rest on his thighs. Life pulls Death in, his heart racing as   
their lips meet again for a kiss. Life can taste just a hint of the sugar Death sucked from his fingers. 

The cake will just have to wait.


	3. Reflection (Leo/Des)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love has a surprise for Death.

“And here we are!” Love giggles as she and Death teleport to Earth, landing in the middle of a busy city, unseen by the walking denizens.

“Where is ‘here’?” Death asks, moving aside as a human comes too close. Should they run into him, they won’t hear him, feel him, or see him, but they’ll feel a sudden chill. He doesn’t like having any effect on their lives, even if it is as minor as a chill. He worries the brief contact will alter their lives in unknown ways. 

“Paris!” Love sings happily, turning around with arms outstretched. Death smiles as he watches her dance, overjoyed to be in a city famed the world over to be dedicated to her aspect. Some yards away he sees a couple standing together, smiling at each other before leaning their heads together, enjoying simply being together. Love blows a kiss their way, and suddenly they're holding each other tighter than before, the look in their eyes deeper, more passionate. Love sighs happily as she watches them realize their feelings for one another. 

Death offers his hand to Love and she takes it, spinning around again with his help, her skirts flying outward as she dances. She’s just so cute when she’s this happy, and it occurs to him that she has the same look on her face that Life gets when he’s surrounded by his creations. Love is surrounded by people she’s blessed, people in love, and she’s elated. 

“What are we doing here?” He’s been wondering since she ran into his rooms, hanging under Ithis, yelling that she had something to show him.

“The thing I was going to show you!” Her hints are the worst, absolutely useless. He recalls when she had attempted to tease him with hints about a gift she’d gotten for him, simply referring to it as ‘the thing’ with every following comment. Love grabs his hand and drags him along. “Come on!”

He isn’t resisting her but somehow she’s going faster than him on her short legs and heels, dragging him along behind her. He has to hurry to keep up as she glides through the crowds of humans, leading Death to a row of businesses along the street. 

They stand in front of the shop on the corner, and Death can smell coffee in the air, and hear warm, happy chatter among the patrons. The building is built of brick, and a chalkboard stands out front, describing the coffee of the day. The front windows are full of plants. Death is charmed by these thoughtful touches.

“You must be showing me more than a coffee shop. It's a very cute building, though.” He recalled the general area from hundreds of years ago. Wasn’t this a tailor shop, long ago? He feels a twinge of warmth in his heart, happy the building is still standing after all this time. 

“I'm showing you what’s inside!” Love huffs and pulls his arm over her shoulder, briskly walking him inside. It’s very busy, full of customers, but the noise inside is comfortable and cozy, not loud and overbearing. Inside, Death can smell the different types of coffee and the pastries. They pass by tables filled with customers, coffee in elegant but sturdy cups positioned artfully beside matching plates with pastries on top, their orders posed for photographs.

“Those look good.” Death wants to try a pastry, but Love passes each table and brings him to the front counter, flatly ignoring the way he longingly stares at the pastries.

“Look.” Love points him toward the counter, a tall man leaning against it as he ignores the coffee that's been passed to him, his attention fixed on the even taller barista. Death gasps softly, eyes huge. He can hardly believe what he's seeing. The barista is tall and thin with large amber eyes, black hair slicked back, wisps of hair draped over each ear.

“It’s… He’s me?” Death is so confused and astounded by the likeness. He goes behind the counter and stands beside his doppelganger, the human distracted by the man leaning against the counter. Death looks to Love and waves a hand over their heads, wordlessly asking if they’re the same height. Love nods, grinning as Death enjoys his surprise. And the other part of the surprise isn’t even there yet. She can hardly wait! She’d visited for days to figure out when the other human usually shows up, and if she’s figured correctly, he should be arriving soon.

Death is still studying his human version, absolutely confounded by the similarity. Did Lord Ithis make him? Did Life make him? How does this human look so exactly like him? His heart is racing, but he has to admit, this is a very good surprise. He’s curious now, he wants to know all about this human. What’s his name? Is he an employee here or does he own the place? Does he make the pastries? Is this all just a coincidence? 

Death doesn’t notice the bell ringing as the door opens, the second part of Love’s surprise strolling in, but she does. She bounces a little in excitement, hands clasped over her mouth to contain any squeaks or squeals of delight that would alert Death. She wants to see the realization dawn on his face.

The human doppelganger notices the arrival too, his lips curling upward in a smile, eyes lighting up. The other patron leaves with his order, realizing he’s failed to attract his attention. 

“Leo.” The doppelganger speaks and even his voice sounds like Death’s. Just as he thinks he can’t get any more confused, he follows the human’s line of sight to see what he’s smiling at and feels his heart rate pick up, pounding in his chest, eyes widening, face flushing, as he sees a human who looks exactly like Life standing in front of the counter.

Love finally lets herself laugh aloud. He looks so shocked, and really, why wouldn’t he be? Who would ever expect to find a human who looked like themselves, let alone a second human who resembled another god? And they knew each other!

“Hey, Des. Hot one out today.” Leo removes his hat and fans himself with it, unaware of the two gods at his side. “Iced green tea latte, if you would.”

“Coming right up. Your usual seat is taken,” Des motions to a corner seat by the front windows where Leo loves to people watch while sipping his coffee, “But I can seat you in the apartment where there’s A/C, if you’d like.”

“That would be marvelous, thank you.” Leo tries to tip his hat but realizes it’s in his hand, and instead he smiles sheepishly at Des and shrugs off his own error. Leo passes around the back of the counter, smug as he gets on his tiptoes to kiss Des’s cheek in front of envious cafe customers, and heads off toward the door leading to Des’s apartment, the key in his pocket.

Death watches him walk off, absolutely speechless as the door shuts behind Leo.

“He… He looks like Life? And this one,” He points a long finger at Des, frothing up matcha powder in a cup, “He looks like me. Exactly like me. How… How did you find them? Did Life make them?” He’s overflowing with questions and emotions. How does something like this happen?? These two were the spitting image of himself and Life and they were involved with each other too!

“He wouldn’t tell me,” Love shakes her head and joins Death behind the counter to watch Des make a green tea latte, “I asked but he just got all quiet and shy like he does when he doesn’t want to answer. I’m not sure if he can make humans without parents? He did once, of course, but they’ve evolved from his original design. So… I don’t know. Maybe he made them, maybe he just happened to find them.” Love notes how Des’s fingers are the exact length of Death’s, his nails shaped the same, his hands tapering into an elegant, thin wrist. He really is like a reflection of Death.

“But he brought me here and asked me to bless them.” She grins, Death’s pale cheeks turning pink. “And how could I possibly turn him down? He asked me not to show you but come on, he knew I was going to show you. Oh, watch, he’s going to make a design in the latte with the milk.”

They both lean in close as Des carefully pours milk just so into the cup, until a heart appears, floating on top. Death’s face is red and hot, as if he has personally made the drink and is going to present it to Life himself.

“Excuse me, I'm just going to bring this to Leo.” Des says to an employee, who gives him a knowing grin. Des falters, avoiding eye contact with her, “I-I don't know what you're thinking, but I'm going to give him his coffee, that's all!”

“Yeah we'll see if you don't come back with a new love bite.” She giggles and leaves to deliver a drink to a table while Des hurries toward the door with Leo’s drink. Unbeknownst to him, Love is busting up laughing. Even his mannerisms are so much like Death’s! 

“Do you want to follow him?” Love is still giggling as Des unlocks the door. Death considers it. He wants to see them together when they're behind closed doors. Do they act like he and Life do when it's just them? 

If this human is as similar to him as he seems, then Death knows he would not want prying eyes watching them, even if he and Love are invisible to them. He shakes his head. Des opens the door and disappears behind it. Death is intensely curious, but he’ll let them keep their privacy.

“Can you tell a couple’s future?” He asks, taking her hand. Their conversation pauses as they teleport out of the coffee shop, out of the Mortal Realm, and reappear in Love’s garden.

“No. The path of love isn’t always clear.” She sighs, distressed by her own shortcomings. “Are you wondering about their future?” She concentrates, recalling the strings of love between them that she felt when they were face to face. She recalls the joy on Des’ face, the way Leo leaned in close to order, the way his hand cupped Des’ back for his kiss, the flustered joy radiating off of Des afterward. Looking at Leo and Des together gives her the same readings as when Life and Death are together, both of them eager to touch each other, their eyes lighting up when the other is nearby. 

“What I can tell is their love for each other is very clear and pure. There aren't any ulterior motives. They fit together very well. Couples who read this way usually last.” She's happy to give him a good report. He’s smiling, heart fluttering as he thinks of them, thinks of Life. Love already knows what he's about to ask: what about him and Life? 

“You and Life read the same way.”


	4. Book (Life & Wisdom)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life finds a book in Wisdom's library that describes human gods, and finds some familiar similarities.

Wisdom was attempting to ignore Life, who had invited himself into his library without warning and was wandering around, touching everything and leaving things just slightly off from where they were meant to be and flipping through books without actually caring what they were about, or putting them back in the correct place. If Wisdom actually watched Life’s meandering path around the library and the places where he was leaving some books (some on nearby surfaces, not even back on the shelf!), he knew he would throw him out a window. His only choice was to force himself to not pay attention and put everything back later, either after Life had left of his own free will or after Wisdom threw him out of the window, he wasn’t picky.

“What’s this? World mythology?” Life plucked a book from the shelf and actually looked at it this time, reading the back and flipping through it with genuine curiosity. Eager to keep him from displacing more things, Wisdom offered his help.

“It’s the way the humans envision us. Or, rather, how they envision their ideas of the gods. Actually this particular volume is my favorite on the topic. It compares deities across cultures, because many of them are similar in idea. There are some rather fascinating theories on why deities from cultures on opposite ends of the Earth are so similar.” 

Wisdom watched Life check the front of the book, his finger running down the table of contents until it landed on Creation Deities.

“That’s me, huh.” Life seemed to be deliberating turning to the page. Another entry caught his eye.

“Death Deities.” He murmurs. Do any of the creation deity archetypes resemble him? Do the death deity archetypes resemble Death? He goes to the couch with the book and spreads his legs across as much of the couch as he can take up, a pillow between his back and the arm of the couch, as he opens to the creation deities section. Wisdom is just pleased Life is distracted now. He walks around, gathering up the books left strewn about and returns them to their proper shelves. 

Life flips through the pages, each page depicting a deity and listing the culture they were from, and what they were believed to be able to do. There was a surprising amount of variety between them. Some were depicted as male, some as women, some created humans, some only created plants, some were only in charge of particular plants or a broad variety of plants. Each page also listed the deity’s consort, and what that consort was in charge of.

He’s surprised to find a trend among them.

“A lot of them have death deities for consorts.” He says aloud, mostly to himself, partly inviting any commentary Wisdom might have on the topic. His face feels warm and his heart feels light and fluttery. 

“Yep.” This is not the commentary Life was hoping for and he stares at the back of Wisdom’s head, contemplating throwing the book at him. But he hasn’t looked at the death deities yet, and he wants to see how they measure up to Death. Perhaps he should start calling Death his consort.

There’s variation among this subset of deity as well, some depicted with animal heads or brightly colored skin. How would Death look with blue skin, something to match his own green skin? Though some look very unexpected and unique, where there is similarity between these deities, he spots a hilarious trend. Tall, thin, pale skin, clad in black, brooding.

“Death matches the archetype of a death deity.” Life giggles. He wants a page about Death in this book, with a list of his favorite things. Flowers, and his consort, Life. 

He smiles, cheeks warming with a slight flush until he recalls the similarity he’d noticed between the creation deities. Their consorts who took life or guarded the dead, with their lifegiving consort at their side.

“What? Find something you don’t like?” Wisdom had noticed Life’s silence, and having finished cleaning up the mess, stood at the side of the couch, observing Life staring into the book.

“The creation deities and their consorts. The death deities.” “What about it?” “...I… This is so weird, isn’t it? Me and Death. I create, he uncreates. And all these… Archetypes. From all these different cultures. All over the world.”

His eyes look distant, unfocused. He isn’t even looking at the book anymore, his hands losing their grip on the covers. Wisdom takes it gently from him, sets it on the table beside the couch, and waits for Life to gather his thoughts and talk to him. He sits at the end of the couch, dismayed when Life puts his feet in his lap. Wisdom makes no effort to move him, however. Life was angsting. If using his lap as a footrest made him feel better, then fine.

“I used to wonder if maybe Lord Ithis changed me after I was made, after he woke Death up. Like, made me fall in love with Death. And made him to fall in love with me.”

“That’s pretty conceited.” Wisdom can see where Life is going with this, but it still sounds incredibly self-centered to him. Life was made for his job, and Death was made for his job.

“I know, but… Look at these myths, it happens over and over! Did he… Make us fall in love? Is it love if we were made like this?”

“They’re human stories to explain the world, they don’t have any bearing on you or Death or any of us. These aren’t our stories, they don’t explain _us_.”

Wisdom wants to roll his eyes, but resists the urge. Life is his friend, and he doesn't want him to hurt or be upset, and no matter what, he wants to help Life. But he gets some strange ideas sometimes. Lord Ithis remaking him, really? After 450 billion years? 

“Did you love him the first time you met him?” 

“Of course not.” Life doesn’t enjoy thinking back on how hard it had been for them to get close enough to even get to know each other. Though once they were close enough to talk, things just seemed to slide into place, which made him more suspicious. Every smile, every touch of his hand and shy kiss had made Life feel more and more at home beside Death.

“If you two were made for each other, wouldn’t you have loved each other at first sight? Death didn’t even like you at first. And you didn’t like him either when you found out what his job is. If Lord Ithis remade you somehow to love Death, none of that would have mattered. You would’ve just kept on loving him instead of fighting with him. You were made for each other only in the sense that you're each one half of the balance. Everything else is just you two dorks.”

Life is quiet for a very long time before he speaks again. 

“‘M not a dork.” He has the dopey lovestruck look on his face that tells Wisdom he's thinking about Death. 

Wisdom gets up to keep cleaning and grabs the world mythology book, examining the cover. He opens it, reading a page on a creation deity and their death deity consort. Wisdom smiles as he slides the book back into place. Now everything's tidy again, at least until Life starts pulling books at random to indicate his catlike need for attention. 

“If anything, all those myths tell you is that even humans know this is meant to be.”


	5. Hair (Life/Death)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life and Death cut each other's hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if their hair even grows or if they need to cut it at all but this got into my head and I wrote it straight through in about 40 minutes.

“Just so you know, I'm going to be mad if you mess up my hairline.” Life has a pout on his face that makes Death want to kiss him, but he refrains. Death has a sheet in his hands, and wraps it around Life’s neck, pinning it in place to catch any fallen hair. He stops to rub his fingers through the grown out fuzz around the back of Life’s head, savoring how soft it is. He has the urge to rub his face into it and nuzzle Life, but he knows he'll get a weird look if he does…

And yet, he can't resist. Death gives in and presses his face into Life’s overgrown fluff, happily rubbing his cheeks into it. Life’s hair is soft as a bunny and he's cuter than a hissing kitten, making it hard for Death to resist a great many of his urges to hug and cuddle Life.

Life holds back his sighs. He figured this might happen. He just wanted his hair trimmed, but if it makes Death happy…

“You're being so agreeable.” Death wraps his arms around Life, happy to hug him tightly now that he's helpless and wrapped up in a sheet.

“Only because I expect you to be just as agreeable when I wrap you up in a sheet while I'm doing your hair.” Life sniffs, continues pouting, pretending he doesn't love it when Death wants to hold him. 

Death gasps softly. If Life wanted to wrap him up in a sheet and hug him and play with his own grown out hair, he would hold perfectly still.

Death releases Life and picks up the electric trimmer he'd borrowed from Muse. It buzzed as he turned it on and Life stares warily at it. 

“Have you used one of these before?” 

“Of course I have, I was on my own too, you know.” Back when he was newly born after his millions of years of sleep, when everyone was too afraid of his aura to let him too close. He'd had to make do back then, until Muse offered to give him a trim. Love had cut his hair once, and buzzed a heart on the back of his head. As much as he loves her, he hasn't gone back to her for a haircut since. Her tendency to put hearts on everything is adorable until she starts trying to cover him in hearts too.

Life falls quiet then, holding still as Death pushes his head forward. He runs the trimmer over Life’s head, and it feels like he's going up too high, like he might cut into his longer hair, but he stops right as Life is about to say something.

“I can feel you tensing up. I can see where your hair is, don't worry.” Death lightly brushes the fallen hair from the back of Life’s neck, his hand lingering on his warm skin. Life shivers, but doesn't try to chase him away. 

Death works his way over the rest of Life’s head until his undercut is properly buzzed short. He switches the buzzer out for a fine razor and cuts away the hair growing inside the stars on the sides of Life’s head. Once he's been shaved, Death brushes the hair away and presses a kiss to a freshly shaven star. It tickles but Life holds still, leaning a little more into Death.

Death smiles and hugs him for a moment, then frees him from the sheet. Life checks himself out in the mirror in Death’s bathroom, humming approvingly.

“Who’s this sexy beast?” He coos, then turns to Death for approval as he purses his lips in an overly dramatic imitation of an alluring expression. Death just laughs and shakes the hair off the sheet. Death takes it from him and wraps it around Death’s neck, pinning it to protect his suit.

“You're so tall, you celestial giraffe…” Life grumbles, hoping he won't mess up Death’s hair. 

“I trust you.” Death says simply, holding still for Life. Life flushes, feeling his heart give a heavy thump. He hugs Death from behind, pressing his face into Death’s back. For all the shit Life gives him, Death is only loving and adoring in return. He almost feels bad.

Almost. If he just didn't love riling Death up so much…

Life turns on the buzzers and gets to work, carefully trimming Death’s undercut and smoothing away stray hairs. He’s never cut someone else's hair before, and he really wants to do a good job. Death will have to live with it for awhile.

When he's finished, Death tries to examine his work but Life stops him.

“Hold still, I'm not done.” He puts the trimmers down and picks up the razor. Death looks mystified. But the buzz was all he needed.

“Face forward.” Life demands, and Death obeys, facing forward while Life takes the razor to the side of his head, creating a design Death can't see yet. It's over quickly, and Life takes the sheet off, flapping it to get the hair off while Death examines his hair in the mirror.

“Oh!” He gasps, eyes alight as he spots the tiny star Life shaved into his hair. It's just one, and nowhere as big as the stars Life has in his hair, but it's obviously a star, and it's in the same place Life has one.

“It's adorable, I love it!” Death is so happy about his tiny star. Life puts the razor aside and puts his hands lightly on the sides of Death’s face, pulling him in for a kiss. He feels Death’s hands on his hips, and he pulls away from the kiss, gazing up at Death, enjoying the quiet, peaceful moment between them.

“Thank you. Wanna do this again sometime?” Life asks. His hair will grow out again and need another trim, and Death did a great job. Death nods, smiling.

“Forever and always.”


	6. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Des shows Leo how to make coffee during a business lull.

“So first you press here to grind the beans.” Des points out the button on the grinder and identifies all his equipment, walking Leo through each step of the process before he turns him loose and lets him make his own cup of coffee.

“You grind the beans here in the shop?” The machine he’s looking at does it automatically, he realizes, but it seems like an extra step. It gets swamped in here, he’s seen it, but each customer still gets freshly-ground beans.

“Yes, we roast the beans here too.” Des smiles and nods, “It takes longer and sometimes it means we run out of coffee during rushes and people have to wait while we roast more, but then the coffee is fresher. I don’t want to sacrifice the quality of my product for convenience.” If it took too long, then there were other coffee shops people could go to. Des didn’t want to put out a cup of coffee he wouldn’t drink himself.

“I'm not going to make you roast the beans, but you have to use the grinder. It's kind of loud. Here, this is the filter. Hold it under the grinder and fill it until there's a small mound of coffee.” 

Leo takes the filter and holds it under the grinder, following Des’ directions as carefully and as closely as he can. He is determined to get this right on his very first try and impress Des. He listens closely, nodding along and following Des’ words, stopping the grinder when told and moving onto the next step: tamping down the coffee.

Des stops his narration, a small smile on his face. He rarely ever sees Leo so serious, but there he is, almost glaring at the coffee, he’s listening so closely. It's rather cute. Leo notices the absence of Des’ voice and turns to him, confused.

“You stopped? Uh, what came next, the tamping, right? I smush the coffee down, then it’s a puck? And, uh, then the water?” There was so much new terminology and he was trying so hard to remember everything.

“Sorry, you were just so cute. You're taking this so seriously.” Des giggles softly, moving a stray hair from Leo’s face.

“Well… I wanted to impress you.” Leo looks so shy about it, his cheeks dark as he pouts and avoids eye contact with Des. He stares at his half-finished coffee, wondering what in the hell the next step was. He’s sure he’s forgotten something. He’s disappointed in himself for that. 

“Besides, _you_ take it seriously. I know it means a lot to you. I wanted to do it right.” Des goes so far as to roast and grind the beans in the shop to make sure everything meets his exacting standards. The least Leo can do is take his instructions seriously. 

Des feels his heart beat a little faster for just a moment, so touched by Leo’s words. He stands a little closer to him, their bodies pressed together as Des continues with the lesson. 

“Slide the filter in here, over the cup, lock it in place on the espresso machine and turn on the water to extract the coffee.” Des sets his hands on Leo’s shoulders, smiling as he watches him. He counts the seconds in his head, timing the extraction. “And turn the water off. So now you’ve pulled your first shot.”

“It doesn’t look like much.” Leo stares into the bottom of the cup. It takes up so little room in the cup.

“It’s espresso, it’s strong. Next is steaming the milk. Do you want to try making latte art with the milk?” Des knows how to make all sorts of patterns in drinks using milk, and he knows it’s intimidating, but Leo is so determined, he figures he can at least offer him the chance.

“Uh. Sure, why not.” 

“Do you want me to show you how?”

“No, I can do it!” Leo’s seen videos of baristas creating pictures in their drinks with milk. It can't be that hard, can it? He’s trying to convince himself but he’s failing. He knows it’s hard and he’s regretting his choices leading to this moment. Des shows him how to steam the milk and hands him the little container, standing aside to watch as Leo holds the espresso in one hand, and the milk in the other. Leo carefully, awkwardly pours some milk in, gasping when it combines with the espresso. 

“It mixed, I didn't even stir it-” 

“It’s okay, keep going. Some of it is going to mix.”

Leo pouts, determined to do this, or at least get a recognizable shape in the espresso. He pours more, the look of utter concentration returning to his face. It's the cutest expression Des has ever seen and he wants to see it more often.

Leo gasps when he sees a circle of milk form at the top of the coffee. He did it! He recalls the way baristas in videos he's seen wiggle the container to get squiggles. He tries to mimic the motions but instead turns his milk circle into a vaguely oval-esque blob. 

He's not pleased with the latte art, but maybe it tastes good. Leo hands the drink to Des for his opinion. Des sips it and comes away with milk on his nose and above his upper lip. He doesn’t seem to notice, too focused on tasting the coffee. Leo can't let this perfectly good trope go to waste, and leans in on tip toe, kissing above Des’ upper lip and wiping away the milk on his nose. Des is surprised and sets the coffee down before he spills it.

“Was there milk on my face?” He asks, trying to wipe where Leo kissed him, but Leo catches his wrist and pulls it down, lacing their fingers together.

“Yeah, hold on, I think some got on your chin too.”

“What, how-”

Leo doesn't respond because of course there isn't milk on Des’ chin, he just needed another excuse to lean in too close and kiss him again. Leo hums happily as his arms slide around Des’ waist, his hands settling on his hips and pulling him close against his own body.

“Oh, wow, would you look at that, there's milk here too,” Leo lies as he kisses Des’ jaw, smiling to himself as Des laughs at his thinly veiled excuses, his arms around Leo’s shoulders.

“You're so messy, Des, there's some on your neck too!” He nuzzles his face into Des’ neck, smells coffee and sugar, and kisses his warm skin as he commits the moment to memory. Him and Des, making coffee on a quiet afternoon with soft rain outside and sunlight reflecting in the puddles. Des is laughing and smiling, and all Leo can think about is how much he loves Des, and how beautiful he is, how he loves to hear him laugh and watch him smile, and how much he wants to wake up next to him every day.

“Oh yeah, how was the coffee?” Leo had been so caught up in the moment he almost forgot what they were doing, but he does want to know if his coffee was at least drinkable. 

“The wha… Oh!” Des turns red, having completely forgotten about the coffee. He tries to step away from Leo but he keeps his hands right where they are on Des’ hips, so Des just has to make do with the space Leo’s going to give him. He sips the coffee again, carefully considering it with his refined palate.

“For your first time, it’s pretty good. It’s a little bitter, but that’s easy to fix.” He takes another sip. Not bad at all for a first try.

“Does it need sugar?”

“No, the bitterness is from the shot and how long it was pulled. I should’ve told you to turn off the water sooner.” He offers the cup to Leo to let him taste it, and he can definitely taste the difference between his cup and one prepared by Des. Des seems to know instinctively when to stop on a cup by cup basis.

The bell on the front door jingles and a woman approaches the front counter, smiling at Des, who successfully breaks away from Leo this time while Leo sips the coffee he made for himself. Even if it’s not as good as Des’ coffee, he’s still proud of his very first cappuccino.

“Hello, it’s been awhile since you’ve been in. What can I get you?” Des smiles at his customer and Leo can see from her expression how charmed she is. And why wouldn’t she be? Des is tall and handsome, and makes the best coffee in Paris. Leo isn’t biased at all.

“Flat white, please. Oh, and an orange-raspberry scone.”

“Do you have any requests for latte art?” 

“A rose, please.”

“I’ll get that right out to you, please have a seat.” Des smiles at her and Leo can see her cheeks flush just a bit under his attention. She finds an empty table in a corner and steals a few more glances at Des, then looks out the window instead, enjoying the peaceful scene outside the shop.

Leo stands aside, leaning against the counter as he watches Des at work. The steps don’t look much different from the cappuccino, but he admittedly doesn’t know much about Des’ craft. He watches in utter awe as Des pours the milk in in the shape of a rose, and places the cup on a plate.

“What the fuck…” Leo mutters under his breath, confounded. Des laughs and grabs the last orange-raspberry scone, and brings the order out to the woman. She smiles and fawns over the milk rose, compliments Des, and settles in to enjoy her treat while people-watching. 

Leo does that sometimes too. After a lot of tours or difficult tourists, Leo loves to come to Des’ shop, get some coffee, prepared by Des of course, then go sit and people watch through the windows. Sometimes he’ll ignore the people on the street and just happily watch Des walk around the store, delivering orders to tables and checking on customers. Leo loves the frenetic pace of guiding tourists around Paris, but the slow, careful, old-fashioned atmosphere of the coffee shop is relaxing too, especially when Des comes to check on him and Leo can flirt with him.

The grinder is out of coffee beans now, so Des measures out a fresh batch from a bag and puts them into a small industrial roaster on the countertop. He sets it to roast as the bell on the door rings again, another customer coming up to the counter. She orders a cookie, Des charges her and hands over the cookie, inviting her to sit and take her time. Leo’s gaze drifts to the pastries on display, the supply getting low. The muffins are sold out, there’s only three cookies left, and a handful of scones. Nearly everyone in the shop has a plate with a pastry on it sitting beside their coffee. Some customers only have coffee, some only have a pastry. He's not surprised, he's tasted almost everything Des has for sale, and everything is amazing.

“Do you make the pastries?” Leo asks Des, watching the customer retreat to a table with her cookie and her tablet.

“I do. I bake everything the night before. So I made all of these last night. Whenever there’s leftovers I let my employees take them home. They say I’m trying to make them fat.” Des laughs and pulls a scone from the display, breaking it in half. He offers one half to Leo and eats the other half himself. Leo eats it slowly, savoring the caramelization of the sugar sprinkled on top, the tang of lemon, the sweetness of blueberries. He daydreams about coming home to the coffee shop after a full day of leading tours and going to Des’ apartment with him - to their apartment, per the daydream. He dreams about sitting in the kitchen with Des while he bakes, and going to the farmers market on the weekends and early in the morning to get ingredients for the pastries, then walking back home, hand in hand with him.

“So you bake everything, you run the business, I think you do the accounting, the taxes, you roast the coffee, make the coffee, run orders out to tables… Do you ever relax?” He knew Des’ employees did a lot of work around the shop too, but Des does so much front and back end work. Whenever Leo stops by, Des is running around. Even during a lull like this, he’s roasting coffee and cleaning up and showing Leo how to make a cappuccino. 

“Well, I'm pretty relaxed right now. I relax when I'm baking. I think it's fun. I wouldn't sell pastries if I didn't think it was fun to bake. And it’s always fun when you come into the shop. You being here relaxes me.” Des smiles brightly, his admission so open, so honest, so adorable and innocent, Leo feels his heart pound in response. Does Des even know how cute he is?

“Could I take you on a tour sometime?” Leo spends so much time in the coffee shop, bugging Des and eating his pastries and drinking his coffee, and it feels like Des never lets him return the favor. He doesn’t even let Des pay for the coffee and snacks.

“I don't like the crowds-” Des smiles and attempts to turn him down gently, but Leo cuts him off. He takes Des’ hands and holds them, brings them up to his lips to kiss the backs of his hands.

“No, just you and me. A personal tour. There will still be people around us, but… I'll show you the best sights, and tell you all about the history. We can have lunch at a quiet little restaurant I like to go to. I guess that’s actually a date. But how does that sound?” A date all around Paris, seeing the sights Des has admittedly never seen in all the years he’s lived there. He wants to show Des the things he keeps saying he wants to see, but never takes the time off to go visit.

“That… Sounds lovely, actually. I'd love that.” There’s plenty of things Des has wanted to see. The standard tourist sights, the off-path places Leo knows about. He knows it’ll be more fun with Leo there to tell him all about who built what and why than if he went on his own.

“Okay, awesome! Um, I’ll plan some stuff out, so let me know when you have some time off, and…” Leo wrinkles up his nose, suddenly smelling something acrid and bitter. “Hey, what's that smell?”

Des gasps, suddenly remembering he had been roasting coffee beans.

“Oh, the beans!” He runs to the roaster and stops it, but the beans are burned. Leo wants to shrink and disappear. He distracted Des and made him burn the coffee beans.

“Let me help.” It’s the least he can do. He opens the door on the roaster and the beans spill out. Leo coughs as the burnt smell hits his nose. He gathers them up and carries them to the trash while Des cleans out the roaster and lets it air out.

Leo awkwardly returns to his position leaning against the counter, trying and failing to mimic his own casual posture from earlier. He can’t bring himself to meet Des’ eyes just yet, not when the air still smells like burnt coffee. Des doesn’t mind. He’s burned the beans before, just never when Leo was around. He slides a hand over and takes Leo’s hand, rubbing his thumb over Leo’s knuckles.

“Would you like to come over tonight? I can show you how to bake scones. Or how to roast coffee.” Des offers, the little grin on his face and teasing tone in his voice telling Leo all is forgiven, all is forgotten. Leo sighs, relieved.

“I’d like to learn how to make scones. But maybe we can save learning how to roast coffee beans for another time.”


	7. Shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo spends the night at Des' apartment and enjoys the warm fuzzies of being recognized as his boyfriend.

It's not the rain on the window that wakes him, but the smell of coffee drifting through the apartment. Leo used to be indifferent to coffee, regarding it merely as the gateway between him and being fully awake, but since he's been dating Des, he's grown more appreciative of good coffee. Particularly good coffee made by Des. He yawns and reaches over to grab Des’ pillow, burying his face in it. He smells Des’ shampoo, hair gel, and cologne, smiling as the scents combine into one smell that's unmistakably Des. It’s what he smells when he stands on his tiptoes to kiss Des’ neck and when he uses Des’ products after a shower. Sometimes he smells the same shampoo or hair gel on a stranger but the scent brings him right back to Des.

The bed is warm and he's still lazy and sleepy, and the soft rain pattering on the large windows is making him feel even more lazy as he hugs the pillow to his chest. From the kitchen he can hear Des moving around, chopping things, turning on the stove and the radio, placing a pot on the stovetop and humming along with what’s playing. Leo is decently good at taking care of himself, but since he's always on the move, there isn't much to his apartment. Des’ apartment is comfy, warm, inviting, contains a questionable amount of throw pillows, and the sounds of Des in the kitchen, of another person walking around, add to the happy, comfortable feeling that’s making him so resistant to getting out of bed.

Leo hears footsteps heading his way and Des opens the door, looking a bit hesitant. But Leo doesn't notice his expression at first. His attention is drawn to the shirt Des is wearing. He releases the pillow and sits up on his elbows, a grin spreading on his face.

“Is that my shirt.” It's far less a question, more a statement. Des is too classy to own a shirt as tasteless as the Visit the Paris Catacombs! Come for the remains of six million Parisians, stay forever! shirt he's borrowed from Leo’s drawer. He rather likes the sight of Des with his rumpled bed head, wearing Leo’s shirt. It's one of his favorite shirts, and seeing it on Des with his thin, pale arms through the sleeves, and the hole on the neck revealing Des’ collarbone is enough to pull Leo out of the warm bed and cross the room to drape his arms around Des’ neck. He stands up on his toes and kisses that tempting collarbone, then rests his face on Des’ chest, still tired.

“I-It is. If you want it back-”

“I like it better on you.” Leo lazily opens his eyes and gazes up at Des, admiring the flush on his cheeks and the way his hair tails frame his face. How is he so beautiful? “So what's up?” 

“Oh! I'm making breakfast but I'm out of fruit for the juicer. Could you go down to the corner market and get some?” Des seems hesitant to ask, and Leo isn't sure why until he recalls the rain. It’s a bit heavy, nice for staying inside and watching or listening to, not so much for going out into. Leo pouts at the windows, but it isn't that big a deal. 

“I'll go on the condition that I can wear your scarf. It's only fair since you cruelly stole my shirt.” He pretends the loss of the shirt is devastating, throwing the back of his hand against his forehead to demonstrate his agony. Leo whines and rubs his forehead, having thrown his hand with more force than he'd intended. Des laughs at the ridiculous display and kisses Leo’s forehead to help with his self-inflicted injury.

“I suppose that's fair.” Des retrieves his scarf from the coat closet by the front door while Leo pulls his boots and jacket on to head downstairs. Des flips the scarf around the back of Leo's neck and uses it to pull him close, leaning down for a kiss. 

“Thank you. I know it's wet out.” 

“No problem. What fruit did you want?” The mild discomfort Leo has to put up with going outside is outweighed by the joy of getting to wear Des’ scarf and the kisses Des is leaving on his forehead. 

“Whatever you'd like in fruit juice. Maybe oranges and strawberries?” 

“Sounds good. I'll be right back.” Des leaves the apartment and heads outside, rain splattering his hair and face as he hurries around the corner and ducks into the little corner market. The owner is a large man he's seen at the coffee shop before, and judging from his smile, he recognizes Leo too. 

“Ah! I know you! You're in the coffee shop all the time! I see you flirting with Des!”

“Uh, yeah. That doesn't… I mean, 95% of the coffee shop patrons flirt with Des.” It's slowed down since Leo has started leaving rather brutal hickies up and down Des’ neck. He feels a pleasant rush of possessiveness, knowing the marks he's leaving on Des are keeping other suitors at bay. Des wearing his shirt makes him feel the same way, like he's wearing a clear and obvious mark of Leo’s claim on him. 

“Yes, but you're the only one he flirts with.” The owner smiles, his eyes landing on the scarf Leo borrowed. His smile gets wider, recognizing it. “Isn't that Des’ scarf? Could that be why you're here? Getting some groceries for him?” 

“I…” Leo feels a warm sensation fluttering from his stomach up to his heart. People are starting to recognize him. Not only that, they're recognizing him as Des’ boyfriend. 

“Y-Yes, actually.” It feels nice to say it and confirm his suspicions. Yes, he's the one Des flirts with at the coffee shop. Yes, this is Des’ scarf. Yes, he's here to buy things for Des. Yes, he's going straight back to Des’ apartment after this. The grocer chuckles. 

“Don't let me keep you, then. Best get on with your shopping so you can get back to him.”

Leo’s heart is thumping as he shuffles away from the grocer and stands in front of the produce. He examines the fruit carefully, adding things to his basket while he wonders to himself if anyone else has recognized him as Des’ boyfriend. He knows he’s broken so many hearts in Paris by taking Des off the market, but the idea that he's being recognized as Des’ boyfriend is making his stomach flutter. 

The basket filled, Leo brings it to the til and the grocer rings up his selections while his head is still spinning and overflowing with the homey domestic joy of going downstairs to the market for his boyfriend and the minor chore being recognized for what it is: a task assigned by his boyfriend.

The grocer interrupts his thoughts with the total, which Leo pays, and takes his bagged order off the counter. 

“Tell Des I said hello, would you?” 

“I will.” Leo nods and hurries out, eager to get back to Des. 

Through the kitchen window, Des can see the bright orange of his scarf as Leo leaves the grocer. He smiles, stroking a hand down his borrowed shirt. He admittedly hadn't understood Leo’s reaction to him wearing his shirt up until the moment he'd wrapped his scarf around Leo’s neck. The scarf is so recognizably his, such a staple part of his wardrobe when the weather is chilly, and seeing Leo wear it gives him a thrill of possessiveness and the feeling that, like the scarf, Leo is going to be a constant presence in his life. 

The door opens and Leo hurries in out of the rain, leaving his boots and jacket at the door, leaving the scarf around his neck.

“The grocer says hi.” Leo is physically aching to tell Des all about how the grocer realized who he is and who they are to each other, but he refrains and gives the bag over to Des. 

“His name is Bruno.” Des tells him helpfully, and starts removing the fruit from the bag. Leo realizes then that he spent so much time picking out the most aesthetically perfect fruit, but it’s all just going into the juicer. “Can you help me prepare the fruit?”

Leo sadly takes Des’ scarf off and hangs it up in the coat closet, reminding himself to go through Des’ dresser and find a shirt or sweater to steal. He joins Des in the kitchen and fills the colander with strawberries, rinsing them off in the sink. He cuts the stems off while Des peels the oranges with a small, happy smile on his face. Leo bumps Des’ hip, grinning up at him.

“What are you smiling about?”

The way he shyly averts his eyes as his pale cheeks flush has Leo’s heart beating faster.

“This. Us. This feels so nice.” Des answers honestly. Every so often he has a friend or two over for breakfast, but having people over, even ones he likes, is exhausting after awhile. Leo doesn’t exhaust him, ever. 

Leo is pleasantly surprised to hear that Des feels the same way he does, and that he doesn’t get tired of Leo. He’s been worried he was annoying Des, what with him dropping by the cafe all the time and distracting him from his job. And he knows Des hates crowds, hates having his space invaded, but he doesn't hate having Leo in his space. He smiles and shyly bumps his hip into Des’ again, unable to think of anything to say. Des returns the bump with his own smile, dropping the peeled oranges into the juicer.

The music Des had turned on is still playing, some soft swing music that mixes perfectly with the comfortable rainy morning. The timer on the oven goes off and Des pulls a loaf of fresh bread out of the oven, tipping it out of the pan onto the cooling rack. By the time he’s done this, the juice is ready and he pours it into two glasses, setting them on his small dining table.

“Sit down, it’s almost ready.” Des shoos Leo into one of the seats and rushes around the kitchen, cleaning up and gathering the rest of what they need for breakfast, spreading out coffee, jam, utensils, butter, and plates for the two of them. Leo watches, face in his hands as Des starts cutting slices out of the too-hot bread, hissing to himself from the temperature on his fingertips. Leo laughs at him and Des offers nothing but a pout in response, and immediately goes back to cutting more slices. He fills a plate with the bread and carries it to the small table, sitting opposite Leo.

Des sips the juice and smiles.

“It’s really good.”

“It is.” Leo agrees. He had been about to say he just bought the fruit, but they’d made it together, washing and preparing the strawberries and oranges while standing side by side. It feels nice to enjoy something they made together.

Leo reaches a hand across the table and Des takes it with a small smile still on his face, squeezing their hands together. Leo lightly kisses the back of Des’ hand, enjoying the feel of his cool skin. They let go of each other and start to enjoy their breakfast, spreading jam or butter on the fresh bread, Des opening up the morning newspaper while he chews, reacting to what he reads with gasps of astonishment, smiles, a furrow of the brows, or soft laughter. He’s so expressive and elegant, and Leo never tires of watching him. 

Leo is sipping his juice when it occurs to him. He could spend the entire rest of his life waking up, making breakfast, running to the grocer, doing chores, living all of life’s ups and downs, he could do all of it happily as long as he’s at Des’ side.


End file.
